Night Walker (Hard Case Crime Novels)
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WHO WAS HE, REALLY, UNDER THE BANDAGES?
When Navy Lieutenant David Young came to in a hospital bed, his face was covered with bandages and the nurses were calling him by a stranger’s name. But his nightmare was only beginning. Because the man they believed him to be was suspected of treason – and had driven his wife to murder.
Now, in a shadow world of dirty deals and brutal crimes, David must learn to stay one step ahead of hidden enemies. If he can’t, his impersonation of a dead man is about to become a lot more realistic…
stop it!” She was on her feet, facing him. “Stop it!” she snapped. “I declare, it’s a little late for you to get an attack of patriotism, isn’t it, Lieutenant Young?” “But we can’t—” “Oh, can’t we?” she cried, and before he could guess what she was about to do, she had snatched the picture out of his hand and torn it across. He came to his feet, reaching for the pieces, and she turned away from him and, as he grabbed at her, jabbed an elbow accurately and hard into his bruised chest. The pain
call it that — did not react very strongly to an old woman with a cane. He could not free himself from her without using force, so he put his hands on her hips instead and pushed her gently back a little and held her steady in front of him. “Easy now,” he said. “Snap out of it, Liz.” She stared at him blankly. “Who is she?” Young demanded. “What do I call her?” Below, the knocker sounded again; and the girl’s body jerked at the sound. “But you can’t—” “What the hell did you hire me for?” he
the direction of her look and saw the gun steadying for the shot; too late, he realized that the older man did not believe in the danger or, perhaps, was too angry to understand what he had been told. Young took a step backward toward the cabin door, drawing the girl with him; he felt her press his arm quickly with some message he did not understand. Then she threw herself forward and in front of him, and the gun discharged, and he thought he saw her body jerk with the impact of the bullet; but
go the tanks.” Young saw a yellow light flare into the sky above him, and felt the breath of the concussion. He shivered a little. The tall man swore. “I don’t mind its burning up. If they burned a few more copies, I’d be even happier. But how the hell am I going to be sure... Get that boat raised in the morning. See what you can find,” he said to someone standing by. “Well, let’s go home and clear up the mess. The hell with these nautical operations, anyway. Let’s get back to dry land.” He
downstairs to answer. The door to his room was apparently open; he could hear the quick, light footsteps receding down the stairs — the sound dulled by a carpet — and then the girl’s voice speaking with the soft Georgia accent he remembered. He could not make out what she was saying to the person who had called. The window of his room was also open. He could feel the breeze from it against the minor portions of his face not covered by bandages; and he could hear the sound of the occasional cars